When All Eyes Are Blind
by Madeleine111
Summary: Two people meet in the dark of the night, when all eyes are blind. SMacked
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do NOT own CSI:NY nor any of the characters except my OC's.

A/N: Hope you like that.

**When All Eyes Are Blind**

She starts seesawing gently, back and forth, her brown curls blowing in the wind, and hums a strange melody that has just crossed her mind, coming from nowhere.

Its origin simply doesn't occur to her, though she knows it must be somewhere. Anyway, she doesn't feel like searching her mind now, entering that dangerous world, looking for a hidden memory.

She knows how dangerous that is.

And right now she' can't risk remembering.

Something might come up again.

Something that should rather stay forgotten.

One can never know which thoughts might arise from that big complex mess in your brain, from all that stuff you've dreamed and imagined and lived to see, from all the things that sometimes keep you awake at night, sometimes make you smirk, sometime knocks you down, lying heavy on your chest, making it hard to breath.

Let's face it. Better not take chances.

Her watch tells the undeniable truth, but still she feels like she has been sitting on this park bench for half a life, or at least for some hours. Her pale skin burns, dried up by the frosty wind, and she doesn't feel her toes anymore.

Trembling she rubs her ankles against each other, her hands tucked between her legs, the hood of her jacket pulled far down.

She'd wish the wind would blow her mind empty, blow all the thoughts away to a place where they can't reach her, can't catch up with her again and again.

Can't hurt anymore.

Somehow she has the impression as if the wind had weakened.

The treetops seem to sway more slowly, the boom has hushed.

However there is no one to be seen in the streets.

It's dawning, the most magical time of the day, when day turns into night.

All light vanishes, shadows growing out of nowhere.

After a while she tucks up her legs and rests her head on her knees, her calm brown eyes wandering steadily, her attentive gaze travelling over all these invisible objects that are hiding in the dark.

Far away she can see illuminated windows, drawn curtains.

Surrounded by the night, she feels safe, when the world starts its strange metamorphosis, when suddenly it's all sound and whisper and noise and smell and touch.

When all eyes are blind.

She focuses on the gentle hissing of the gusts of wind, striking her back, caressing her neck.

No, really, she doesn't want to think now.

Replay, rethink, reconsider.

Invent possibilities, imagine scenarios, dismiss them, all lost in her mind, which is not the nicest place to get lost in right now.

She understands that this moment is not to be wasted.

This is the moment to listen to the wind, not to juggle thoughts. She can put that off.

Carefully she bends her head back, rests it on the freezing backrest and looks up into the sky that's black and impervious.

For a really short moment, for the time between two winks, she can't help being overwhelmed by the urge of screaming out loud, yelling something she wouldn't even dare to think.

The ridiculous thought makes her laugh, and she starts to chuckle, but startles at the unnatural scary sound that leaves her throat.

She realizes she's damn cold.

She freezes.

Shivers run down her back.

When she lets her tongue run over her teeth she feels they are cold, and her lips are trembling.

„It's time to go home," she whispers to herself, but doesn't stand up.

It's no good pushing it aside. She knows what's expecting her at home. She knows it so well.

How lovely it'd be to spend the whole night here.

How nice to just fall asleep.

And wake up somewhere else.


	2. Chapter 2

**When all eyes are blind**

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI:NY nor any of its characters.

First he went to that bar around the corner of his apartment and liquored up for the first time in years.

He wasn't just primed, really, he was totally drunk.

Thus is it was no paradox he had the impression the world around him was turning vividly, that he felt sick like hell and that as soon as he stepped out into the dark night he had to support himself on the house front in order not to fall down.

The cold, fresh air had a merciless and cruel impact on him, and for a second he was quite sure his head's about to explode.

It took him some more minutes, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed while he was fighting the feeling of sickness that threatened to overwhelm him until he finally managed to straighten up again and walk almost straight ahead.

He'd have loved to go home, hide in his bed, the cover drawn over his head, and just fall asleep.

But of course there was no chance of doing that, as he knew she was still there, at least he assumed so, and moreover he was quite sure he'd probably hardly make it home.

He perceived himself as incredibly pitiable, wretched and disgusting. When he passed a shop window he disgustedly averted his gaze at the sight the image of an unshaved, pale, tired face it reflected.

Actually he had thought the three-day beard suited him, adding that certain fierce and masculinity to his almost too pretty, symmetric features.

However, in this moment, in which he avoided smelling his own breath, it literally palled on him.

Another conclusion he came to was that obviously being drunk didn't make him more attractive.

It didn't let him appear more dangerous in that very appealing kind of way as it happened to many of his friends, in fact with him exactly the contrary was the case.

Being drunk made him seem ridiculous, turned him into a caricature of one of these typical antiheroes you find quite often in mediocre love comedies, those who are proud of declaring themselves teetotallers and break out in a rash due to cigarette smoke.

He had to laugh out loud.

How clear and obvious everything got as soon as you had stopped unsuccessfully unravelling life's mysteries and riddles.

Where should he go?

Decidedly he turned right in order to avoid the rather steep slope to his right and the busy crossroads to in front of him.

---

Stella let her eyes travel again, allowing herself to immerge into the sweet excitement of seeing absolutely nothing, while being exposed to the world herself.

When she suddenly noticed a figure walking towards her she wasn't surprised.

She wasn't even surprised it was him.

For a second she even considered to slide over a bit, signalling the stranger he was welcome to sit down next to her.

However she remained still.

When she saw him not turn round anyway, heading for the bench she was sitting on, she straightened up a bit.

„I hope you can bear my sight," he said when he lowered himself, avoiding to look at her.

She smiled.

"It's rather your presence than your sight I have to get used to."

"Well, I'm sorry," he said in a low tone. "How long have you been sitting here?"

Stella sighed loudly, a few seconds passed in silence.

"I don't know. Too long, I guess."

Suddenly he looked up to her, his gaze resting on her.

There were little sparkles in his dark eyes.

"I'm afraid I'm a bit drunk," he murmured apologetically, still staring at her.

Stella took a deep breath, though she couldn't get rid of a certain warm, exciting feeling in her stomach.

"That's okay," she replied and one second later he bent forward, slowly, unable to take his eyes of her for a second.

She felt a cold shiver in her neck, a feeling like pins and needles all over her skin got hold of her.

And suddenly he was that close she could smell him.

And discover little sparkles in his dark pupils.

Hours or seconds later, he gently kissed the left corner of her mouth.

It was true he tasted like a mixture of beer and vodka, though it didn't bother her.

"I wasn't intending to throw you off your guard."

"Don't worry, Mac."

Sometimes you need to look closely to discover it.

But sometimes all you need is darkness.

When all eyes are blind.

Cause then there's the chance of suddenly seeing the invisible.


End file.
